High Conspiracy
by ShieraCole23
Summary: The Thalmor were thought to be the true enemy of Skyrim but they were wrong. A greater threat is rising from its midst, in the form of Casara, High Elf and Dovahkiin. It is she who will shake Skyrim to its foundation and watch it crumble to the ground. R/R. OC/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N:Read and Review please! This is just a little snippet of a much greater story. I may or may not continue it but have fun reading it anyway.

Disclaimer: All rights go to Bethesda

The stink of recycled air and the dark of the stone were beginning to get to Ondolemar. This was no life for a Thalmor Justiciar. The absence of sun and fresh air, coupled with his endless pacing to watch for heretics, and you got a living hell for the high elf. The days were long and tedious, spent making his rounds and drinking. Not like a Nord who'd completely drown himself in the barbaric drink of his people, no, simply a mug here and there to offer a bit of comfort in his dreary existence. Little did he know that the arrival of another of his kind was about to change everything.

Just as Ondolemar was completing his 40th march of the day, a clamour below, caught his attention. A figure in hooded black robes was currently arguing with Calcemo. Or rather, he was arguing and she was silently watching him. After a few minutes or so, the old man sighed and handed her a large purse of gold. She inclined her head and turned to head up the steps to the Jarl's throne. As she passed, he managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a golden eye.

Ondolemar pretended to continue his march, when really he was just trying to figure out who this woman was. He paused in the doorway that lead up to the throne to listen. A strong, melodious voice reached his ears.

"Here is your shield, my Jarl." She presented a large iron shield, which the Jarl's housecarl accepted on his behalf.

"It is good to know there are some people out there who can still get a job done. I told you I would make you my thane and I will keep my promise. But I would like to see who you are, beneath the hood of your garment. As you know, High Elves are not very trusted in Markarth, especially one of your arcane expertise."

"In other words, you just want to see what I look like?" came the slightly haughty reply. "So be it." The woman let her robes drop to the floor, revealing herself to all. She was indeed a high elf with light golden skin and long hair of the palest gold that she had swept back out of her face. Her body was phenomenal. She was extremely curvy with a toned belly, a bust larger than normal for her kind and smooth legs that seemed to go on forever, one of which was on full display by her dress that covered very little and looked to be crafted entirely from snowflakes, that reflected the firelight and gave off the impression that she was glittering.

"Does this form please you, my jarl?" She asked.

"Um, yes! It does. Talk to my steward to purchase a house and here is the blade of

Mar-"

"Keep it. You will need it, but I will not. My magic will more than suffice." She dipped

her head and turned to leave, passing a dumbstruck high elf on the way. She winked at one of his soldiers, causing Ondolemar to frown and stiffen in almost jealousy that she had not noticed him. He quickly stepped forward and addressed her.

"Pardon me, do you know of any heretics in the city?"

"Do I appear as though I do?" she asked, arching a sculpted eyebrow.

"Have you?"

"Yes."

"Good, who are they?"

"Forgive me, but I must be going, Justiciar." She peeked around him and winked at his female escort, making him swell with fury.

"You will answer me or-"

"Or what?" she asked.

"Or I will haul your ass to prison!"

"What are your names?" She asked his soldiers. "Never mind. Just know that if you desire real adventure and a break from your insufferable companion, call me. Your metal would be appreciated."

"Who do you think you are?" Ondolemar roared.

"I think I am Casara, the Dragonborn, Thane of Markarth, Whiterun and Winterhold, the Arch mage of the college and destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood. Who are you?"

The Justiciar paled, but tried to regain his composure. "I am-"

"Pause. I don't care." She looked at his companions. "My offer still stands. If you so wish to join, head to Solitude, Katla's farm to be exact. You, Justiciar are not invited. You show up, you will die." She smiled. "Farewell."

A speechless Ondolemar watched the sparkling high elf depart, her hips swaying seductively before turning to look at his companions. "You know the penalty for treason. Don't even think about it." They bowed stiffly and stood at attention. The trio resumed their march, Ondolemar's head filled thoughts with of the strange high elf who dared to try and turn his subordinates before his very eyes and had the nerve to stop him in the middle of his sentence! It was a good thing he'd quelled any stirrings of rebellion, or so he thought, for when he awoke the next morning, his soldiers and his money were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lady Elenwen, Emissary." the foot soldier saluted and bowed to the other high elf as she reclined at her desk, which was currently covered with letters and documents from the Thalmor. A half empty glass of wine sat on a small table to her left. She picked it up and took a sip, glancing at the messenger out of the corner of her eye.

"Speak. How goes the dealings of the Thalmor within this putrid province?" She raised the glass for another sip.

"My lady, there have been reports of... disappearances."

"Nord heretics?"

"No, my lady. Our spy network in most of Skyrim is… gone."

There was a moments pause before the shattering of a glass could be heard throughout the embassy, followed by the irate scream, "What the hell do you mean its gone?!"

The messenger gulped and cowered. "Nelacar has returned to the college and refuses to speak with us, and Ancano has not been heard from in weeks. We are completely cut off from Winterhold and the college. Runil has simply vanished hardly any more of our brethren will commune with us."

Elenwen let out an ear piercing scream and stood up to furiously pace the room. "We need to know what the Nords are planning. Who the hell could have corrupted our entire network?"

"I believe I have the answer to that." The Emissary looked up to find Casara leaning against the doorframe. She looked at the messenger. "Leave." He dipped his head and quickly did as he was told. Casara stepped forward, shutting the door behind her and pulled out Elenwen's desk chair to sit down, neatly crossing her legs afterward and offering a smug smirk to the older high elf.

Elenwen glared at her. "Casara."

"Elenwen."

"Of course it would be you."

"I never said it was me. I said I had the answer."

"So it's not you?"

"Oh no, it is me, I just didn't say it." Her smirk grew into a cheeky grin as she noticed the broken glass on the floor. "My, my,someone seems upset."

"You're damn right I am! What is your deal? I have never met a high elf who shows such contempt for her own kind! I should have you hanged for such treason!"

"Are you finished? Good. This, Elenwen is simply a game, in which you are the first pawn to be thrown to the wolves. A game, that has only just begun. You see, I want what the Thalmor wants, but the Thalmor are too stupid to get it. Soon, Skyrim will be mine and you and the rest of your little Thalmor Embassy will be crawling back to the Summerset Isle with your tail between your legs."

"How dare you?! I am the First em-"

"Emissary! I know! But I don't really care. Never really have. Now, good day to you, Elenwen. I hope we will cross paths again in the near future."

"My guards will stop you." Elenwen growled, seething with rage.

"I don't really think that'll be a problem." The dragonborn winked and rose to leave. Elenwen followed her, wanting to watch the look on her face when she was apprehended. But to her surprise, half of her guards were laying dead on the floor, with the other half bowing to Casara as she passed. The woman had been here for all of five minutes and already she'd managed to corrupt half of her guard.

Casara looked over the carnage with a sinister smile before finally departing, with a trail of Elenwen's best soldiers behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

A/ N Sorry if Linwe seems a bit out of character. I haven't even met him in the game but wanted him in the story nonetheless. Please R/R and enjoy!

"Ondolemar!" Fallen burst into the high elf's inner chambers.

"What in Nirn's name?!" the justiciar cried, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"The Understone Keep is being overrun with frostbite spiders and sabre cats! We need your help!"

"How did they-"

"That damn excavation site of Calcemo's that you wouldn't let the Jarl close! They must have come up from the tunnels. Come on, so we can mount an offensive strike!"

The high elf grumbled under his breath as he pulled on his hooded Thalmor robes and followed the housecarl outside. The Keep was in complete disarray and more bodies than could be counted already littered the floor. The stench of blood filled the air, as well as the screams of men as they died, battling the fierce some beasts.

"Tell Igmund to evacuate!" Ondolemar roared.

"We've already done it!" Faleen cried as she stabbed a sabre cat in the forehead.

She rounded to strike another in the chest. The Justiciar unleashed wave after wave of magic into the midst of the beasts, but more continued to pour in. The pair managed to carve a path into the streets, only to find that the chaos had spread here as well.

The Forsworn were battling the remaining guards and appeared to have the upper hand. Faleen wasted no time leaping into the thick of the fray and turning the tide as she cut down three forsworn with ease. Ondolemar fried four more with fire and followed the housecarl to the city gates, where they ran into Calcemo.

"My museum is on fire!" He grabbed onto Ondolemar's arm. "All of my research is in flames!"

"Get off me you old fool!" the justiciar snapped, and looking up at the museum. Sure enough, the building was covered in bright red flames. "We should get out of the city. Where is the Jarl?"

"He is safe. We can't leave the Forsworn in Markarth!" Faleen said.

"We can't fight them, spiders and sabrecats all at once! It's suicide!"

"Then run, high elf!" the redguard roared. "Run while us real warriors fight." She turned to the guard who'd gathered behind her. "For Markarth." They nodded and raised their weapons.

Ondolemar rolled his eyes and made for the gates, dragging a sobbing Calcemo behind him. When they got to the stables, the Jarl was waiting on the back of a black and white stallion.

"Ondolemar. What of Faleen?"

"The foolish girl launched an attack on the city in hopes of reclaiming it. She would not be persuaded to leave. I must go and report this Elenw-" he trailed off as he spotted a shadow disappear into the trees. He immediately took off after it. The sprint was short but still left him breathless as he reached a small clearing and found the owner of the shadow. "Linwe!"

The thief turned around. "Justiciar! Welcome, it is good to see you are still alive." He smirked and turned to his companion that seemed to be made of shadows. It was only a cloak, that after being thrown to the ground, revealed the glittering form of Casara.

Linwe pulled a book out of his pack and handed it to her. She flipped through the pages, ignoring Ondolemar for the moment before grinning at Linwe. "Job well done, Linwe. Excellent indeed."

The thief mocked modesty and bowed. "Anything for a queen. Now, about your part of the deal."

"Worry not. The thieves guild will be no more and you can set up operation soon." She handed him back the book. "Give this Aicantar and tell him to begin preparations. The first phase has been completed."

He bowed again, put the book away and took off. Casara watched him until he disappeared, before turning to the justiciar.

"What are you planning?" he demanded.

"Me? Oh, I'm not planning anything. The plan is already underway, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"You did this!"

She smiled. "Oh yes. Brilliant, don't you think? Capture a thousand frostbite spiders and sabre cats and sneak them into the excavation site. Add a little fire to make them stampede into the Keep so they distract the guards. Send in Linwe to steal all of Calcemo's notes on the Dwemer while you think everything burned up in the flames." She sighed. "It's been a good day."

"And the Forsworn?"

"Opportunists. I told them they could Markarth if they a tiny little thing for me. You see, no one will suspect me for all of this. Instead, they'll blame it on the Forsworn. As for the spiders and cats, I'm not sure how they'll rationalize that, but I don't really care. I won't be back here for a while, and when I do return, the entire city is going to crumble and fall."

"You're mad! You and what army would dare to go against the Thalmor?" Ondolemar demanded in a rage. "You have made a terrible enemy in your kind!"

"Do I look like a Thalmor to you? No, I am far better than you're pathetic Embassy. Look at what I have already done!" She spread her arms wide, the fading sunlight reflecting off her dazzling ensemble. "I could have destroyed Markarth if I wanted to, but no. I have a bigger prize in mind."

"And what's that?"

"If I told you, I would have to kill you." Casara let flames pool into her palms, even as Ondolemar did the same.

"I'd like to see you try."

"So be it." Without warning, she unleashed a series of arcane attacks, firebolt, lightning bolt, frost spike, each one missing their mark as her target rolled out of the way. Ondolemar fired back but she deflected them with simple flicks of her wrist.

"I overestimated you. I expected from a just-" Casara barely ducked the firebolt flying at her head. It was followed by a stream of lightning that she had to raise both hands to block.

Ondolemar conjured up a sword while maintaining the flow of electricity and began walking forward. Once he was close enough, he drew back his arm, prepared to end this meddling woman, but he got the surprise of his life when he felt the stinging pain of a dagger entering his stomach. Casara wrenched the weapon free and he collapsed to his knees.

"You finally learn your place before me, on your knees. Soon, the rest of Skyrim will be in the same position."

"You will not get away with this." Ondolemar managed to croak. Talking was a struggle as he could already feel the blood in chest entering his lungs. He made an attempt to take a deep breath, only to double over and cough up a mouthful of blood.

Casara yanked him back up by his hair. "Why not? Because the Thalmor will stop me? The Nords? The Legion?" She laughed and took a step back. "I already have."

Ondolemar made one last try to save himself. He summoned his restorative magic, only to feel it crackle and disperse in his hand.

"Magicka poison. Please tell me, you didn't think I was so stupid as to stab you with a regular dagger. You have to give me more credit."

Ondolemar would've cursed her to oblivion, had he the strength to do so. But he could feel himself slipping. Tendrils of blackness were snaking through his vision. It was getting harder to breath.

Casara silently watched him, her expression blank and beautiful. "I am almost tempted to save you. Almost. Just so you can see my plan unfold." She sighed and reached forward, using his hair to clean the blade that had taken his life. After examining it, she sheathed it at her waist and turned her back to him, letting out another sigh, this one of contentment. "Well, perhaps we shall meet again in oblivion." She conjured a sword in her hand and in one practiced motion, sliced off Ondolemar's head.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews and new followers! I really appreciate it. As for those who don't like the story and blow up my email about it, please grow up and stop. If you don't like it, don't read it. For those that do, enjoy! There may be some slight OOC in this chapter in fair warning.

The sun was bright and the sky was clear as Casara made her way to Riften. There was still so much to do. Rumors had come to her of the Lexicon, a cube that contained the memories of the ancient Dwemer. It was an important key to her plan and she needed to retrieve it. She also had to take out the Thieves Guild, as per her deal with Linwe that she was seriously tempted to just forget. Even through the mostly quiet and peaceful journey, her mind was in a constant state of motion as her plan replayed over and over in her head. She couldn't wait to execute it fully. But first, the Lexicon. She needed the knowledge of the Dwemer for the next phase and she knew just who to look for.

"Here, take it!" From-Deepest Fathoms cried as soon as the high elf had stepped out onto the docks. "The memories, they hurt! Take it, I beg of you!"

Casara snatched the Lexicon and looked it over. "How do I transfer the memories to someone else? Someone less stupid?"

"Take it to the dwarven ruins from whence it came. Put it back on its pedestal and take them away. Take all of the memories away!" the Argonian begged.

The dragonborn sighed. "More work." She turned and went back into the city gates. She would deal with the thieves guild first. She needed Linwe's operation set up quickly so he could be her eyes and ears, then it was on to the stupid dwemer ruin with the unpronounceable name.

"Never done an honest days work in your life for all that gold you're carrying, eh lass." She was suddenly approached by a sketchy looking red haired nord. He must be one of the thieves guild. She could tell by the swagger in his walk and the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying you have a ton of coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it."

"My wealth is none of your concern." She said, contemplating how she was going to get this man to lead her to the thieves guild headquarters.

"Oh but it is lass. My and my organization specialize in the matter."

"Organization?"

"Aye. Look, do a little job for me and I'll introduce you to the family. See that dark elf over there?" He motioned discreetly to a scruffy looking gray skinned elf selling wine at a stall. "His name's Brand-shei, and I have some... clients who want him put out of business."

"Interesting…"

"I want you to steal a ring from that argonian over there, Madesi, and plant it on Brand-shei. I'll cause a distraction while you do the job. There's good pay in it, if you're up for it."

"Sure. Let's begin." She walked casually over to Madesi's stall and pretended to browse his wares before walking off. "Gather around everybody…" the nord called. After waiting for everyone to do so, Casara crouched behind the argonian's stall and easily opened the sliding door. A quick spell broke open the lock and she quickly swiped the ring and casually made her way over to the dark elf. He was sitting on a pile of crates. She ducked behind them and slipped the ring into Brand-Shei's pocket.

"Alright everyone, that's all for now." the red headed nord called out as Casara made her way over to him. "Good job, Lass. Here's your pay."

"Keep it. I want to know about your organization. I'd rather have a bigger prize than a hundred gold."

"Well, we've hit a bit of a dry spell lately. I'm actually surprised you were able to pull that off. Listen, you want to make some more coin and see about the organization, head down to the Ratway and to the Ragged Flagon. Make it there, and I'll consider making you a member."

"What was your name?"

"Brynjolf."

"Casara."

"Well, hope to see you soon, Casara."

She dipped her head to him and walked into the Bee and Barb. She went up to the room that she'd already purchased for the night and found Linwe waiting for her. "They're in the Ratway, a place called the Ragged Flagon."

"That's great, but who doesn't know that?" Linwe said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Tonight, around 3, we'll go in and kill everyone down there."

"We?"

"Yes, we. Problem?" The female high elf narrowed her eyes.

"None at all, my queen." He smirked and walked toward her until she stood nose to neck with him. "My queen." he repeated before leaning forward and kissing her full on the lips. She reacted by pressing him back against the wall, deepening the kiss and sliding her hands into his armor to graze his golden chest with her fingernails, before suddenly pulling away. Linwe sighed.

"What now? Is it Fasendil? Tell me you killed him already or you could let me do it. "

"No I didn't kill him and no, you're not about to. I need to have someone inside the Legion, but that's not the issue. You need to get ready for tonight, and so do I."

"Why can't you just go down there and shoot everyone with fireballs or something." He sighed, taking a step back.

"That would be too easy and less fun."

"But if you go ahead and do it, me and you could spend some time together." He smirked.

"Linwe, you aren't falling in love with me, are you?"

"And if I was?" the thief asked.

"I would have to kill you." she deadpanned. "Love is but an illusion. It's a trick to get us to reproduce and I want no part of it and neither should you, at least, not with me."

His face became impassive and she knew she'd upset him. "Fine. See you at 3." She watched him silently depart and began choosing potions and scrolls that she planned to take with her. At the last second, she chose a large flame staff and went to meet Linwe.

He was waiting for her just inside the Ratway. "I'll take out the stragglers we see before we get to the Ragged Flagon. We don't want to alert them to our presence." He informed her as he nocked an arrow on his bow. Traipsing the sewers proved simple, mostly a nuisance for the pair of high elves. The pair of turncoats at the beginning of the tunnels were quickly shot down by Linwe. They encountered a few skeevers that Casara fried. There was one guy who surprised them by attacking in an almost pitch black room. He knocked Linwe to the ground and he landed on a bear trap. She quickly cast a magelight spell into the air and it illuminated the man's fist just as it connected with her jaw. She reeled backwards and instinctively lashed out with her magic and hit him square in the chest. However, he didn't fall and was poised to strike again when she set fire to the oil beneath his feet. Casara quickly pulled Linwe out of danger and watched in amusement as he's struggled to remove the bear trap from his leg. With a massive grin on her face, she conjured a sword to pry it off of the hopping thief and healed him with a spell. They continued on, meeting some deadbeat who tried to attack them with a knife. Casara happily knocked it from his grasp and knocked him out with a stiff kick to his chin. It was then that they found themselves at the door of the Ragged Flagon. Casara entered first and she nearly choked on the putrid air of the sewer water that filled a pool that dominated the so-called tavern. Struggling not to wrinkle her nose, she made her way to where the others had gathered. She recognized the black buckled armor of the thieves guild immediately. There was a bald guy making passes at a pretty blonde who looked ready to murder him, a female redguard talking with the ugly bartender, Brynjolf, and a mean looking nord with gold hair.

Brynjolf turned around. "Well, look who it is. Hey guys, this is the woman I told you about, welcome Casara, to the Ragged Flagon."

"A pleasure." she said, unsheathing her staff to lean it against the table as she sat down in front of the sour faced nord. He scowled at her but said nothing. "Is this all of your organization? You told me you had fallen on hard times, but I did expect more people."

"Nah darling." said the bald guy with a husky voice and a red hand print on the side of his face. "There's more of us. But you got to pass a test to meet 'em."

"Oh yeah." Casara asked already deciding he would die first. Her hand closed around her staff. "Well, where to?"

"Keerava, Haelga and Bersi owe us some money. You collect it any way you can, except killing them and we'll make you a full member." Brynjolf answered.

The high elf rose to her feet. "Or I could just make myself one, by killing all of you." An arrow flew through the air, barely missing the dragonborn by an inch and hit the sour faced nord in the side of the head, killing him instantly. Casara summoned her thu'um and unleashed the unrelenting force shout on the rest of the members. A couple blasts from her staff fried the bald man and another two took care of the redguard woman. The feisty blonde and Brynjolf, after regaining their feet, proved a bit of a challenge as they fought side by side against her. But she was the dragonborn, an arcane master, and she was not about die in a sewer, killed by pathetic thieves. She summoned a flame atronach who distracted the blonde, while she fried Brynjolf. Linwe fired two arrows into the blonde's abdomen from the shadows. The bartender suddenly sliced Casara's forearm and she turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. He dropped his tiny iron dagger and begged for his life. The cut on her arm closed as she cast a fast healing spell.

"I will spare you if you tell me where the others are."

He looked torn, but only for a moment as he glanced at the bodies of his fallen comrades before crawling to Brynjolf's singed body and pulled out a key. "It opens the back of the dresser to the Cistern. Everyone else is in there."

"Good boy." She took the key from him and motioned to Linwe, who emerged from the shadows. "Shoot him and let's go."

"But you said you would let me live!"

"I lied." Casara called over her shoulder. There was a strangled cry as Linwe shot him through his open mouth. Casara walked up to the dresser and after a few minutes found the keyhole. The back of the dresser slid out and the pair walked through it, coming to another door at the end of a hallway.

"How many more?" Casara asked.

"Don't know, maybe six. Mercer's the one you need to watch out for. His sword drains

health. Don't let him touch you."

"Wasn't planning on it." They burst into the room and Casara began firing with her

staff, hitting a guy with a hood, and two guys with long dark hair. A woman with similar colored hair tried to attack her but an arrow through the chest by Linwe stopped her advance and she collapsed to the ground. Another arrow came out of nowhere and hit Casara in the leg. She roared in fury and sent a scroll of fire blast in the direction from whence it came. Another hooded figure, cloaked in fire and screaming as he died, emerged from the blackened area. She took care of those still alive with practiced ease.

"Who do you think you are?!" A man in thieves guild armor carrying a dwarven sword

and a glass one stepped forward. He growled at the sight of Linwe, who had an arrow aimed at his forehead. "Linwe, why am I not surprised? I didn't think you'd actually try something like th-" his words were cut off as he suddenly erupted in fire. He didn't even have time to scream as he turned to ash before their very eyes. The flames were so hot, Linwe had to turn away.

Linwe looked at Casara. "What? I don't have time to sit here and listen to you two talk. I would suggest you bring me those swords and your men to clean this place out. Meet me at the Bee and Barb when you're done. I have to leave for a dwarven ruin in the morning." She turned to leave and nearly fell as pain shot up her thigh. Angrily, she wrenched the arrow out and healed herself with a fast healing spell. "Hurry up, if you don't mind." Casara said as she departed, happy to finally leave the godforsaken sewers and more than ready to take a deep breath of fresh air. Even as she did so, she could help but think there's still so much to do.

As she returned to her room and dropped her things to the floor, the flutter of wings caught her attention. She turned and faced the balcony where a large raven was perched on the railing. Casara scowled and fired a lightning bolt at it, only for it to fire back at her with twice as much force. She was thrown backwards on the bed, bouncing, and slamming into the wall hard enough to splinter the wood. Hand clutched over her heart and chest heaving, she peeked over the edge of the bed.

"Casara, Dragonborn." Came a female voice that radiated from the crow as it stared straight at her. "Do you know what you have done? Do you know who you have angered by murdering a Nightingale?!" A cloud of blackness rose from the raven and moved into the room. It split in half, one part began to morph and transform, while the other grabbed Casara and coiled around her, constricting her throat while restraining her arms and legs with silky black tendrils. Nocturnal looked at Casara as she stubbornly struggled, now fully transformed and seething with silent rage. A pair of ravens perched on her shoulders, also silent and looking directly at the high elf.

"Unhand me!" Casara snarled, only to feel the tendrils tighten.

"You would dare make an enemy of a daedric lord?" Nocturnal asked. "You would dare to destroy my subjects?"

"Yes. I don't fear you, or anyone else for that matter. Nothing will stand in my way."

Nocturnal waved her hand and Casara was suddenly dropped to the ground. "Foolish elf, don't you know I could kill you with a snap of my fingers? Do you know when to kneel before a higher being, or should I break your legs to show you?"

Casara sucked in great gulps of air as she writhed on the floor. _How dare she be treated in such a way? She was dragonborn! She was the Arch Mage of the college in winterhold! How dare this, this, Minor lord touch her?!_ She glared up at the goddess standing before her and spat on the ground at her feet. "Stop hiding in the shadows, Nocturnal. If you wish to fight, so be it."

"You must have a death wish."

Casara stood up, swaying slightly as the room spun. "I think I do."

Nocturnal moved to take a step forward. Casara prepared to defend herself when she suddenly felt the goddess' hand closing around her throat and lifting her off the ground. Nocturnal's grip softened as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the high elf's lips, followed by the agony of something sharp being rammed into her ribcage. Casara was dropped to the ground and instinctively curled into a ball and pressed her hand over the wound. She tried desperately to call upon on her magic to heal herself, but for some reason it would not come, and for the first time, she feared for her life.

"Worry not." Nocturnal's voice came as a whisper in her ear as the goddess herself turned to leave. "Your life is not mine to take. Neither was Mercer's yours. You will live, but you will not forget. Your magicka will not regenerate for 7 days, and in that time, you will sleep. The sleep of death. You will know not to anger me again, and you will repay me for the lives you took. You think me a weak lord? I will show my strength." The goddess' form dispersed as she stepped out onto the balcony, leaving behind the two ravens who remained perched on the railing. They watched as Casara slowly slipped into the illusion, into the embrace of death.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Whoo! It's been a while. For those who were a little bit confused by the last chapter, Nocturnal does **not** like Casara, the kiss was something called a kiss of death. Look it up. Anyways, here is the next installment, kind of short but enjoy anyway.

True to her word, Nocturnal held Casara in sleep for 7 days. In that time, all she saw was blackness and writhing dark tendrils that curled and coiled around her lifeless body. She was only aware of the overwhelming silence, the endless darkness, the emptiness of death. She couldn't tell what time it was, how long she was under this illusion, and couldn't do anything about it. There came a time when she was vaguely aware of a distant laugh, Nocturnal's, mocking her no doubt.

The seventh day came and Casara opened her eyes. She blinked away the grogginess and took in the sight of her room. Linwe was leaning against the doorway to the balcony, where she saw a raven still perched on the railing, watching her.

"It's about time." said the thief, drawing her attention back to him. "What happened?"

Casara scowled and sat up, a raging pain suddenly racing through her abdomen, right where the goddess had stabbed her. She doubled over and collapsed onto the floor. The pain was so overwhelming, it made her eyes water. She didn't even feel Linwe trying to help her as she curled up trying to alleviate some of the agony. There was a ringing laugh in her ear.

"Your 7 days are up, but you will know not to disrespect me again. This pain will last as long as I see fit. Every time that you draw upon your magicka, the pain shall increase, and should your magicka deplete completely, you will die."

"Casara!" Linwe was screaming but she barely heard him. She shoved him away and grabbed onto the bed to pull herself up. Even when she had made it to her feet, the ache was so bad that she had to remain hunched over in order to stand it. "What happened?" the thief snapped.

"Nocturnal. She is angry about Mercer." Her voice came out strained and reflected the intense pain that just wouldn't stop, no matter how much pressure she put on it. She tried to use her magicka, but no matter what healing spell she used, only seemed to make the pain twice as worse, just as Nocturnal had said it would.

"What do we do? You can hardly move." Linwe asked.

"I don't know." Casara admitted. She knew that disrespecting a daedric lord would have its consequences, but she hadn't expected something like this. She couldn't do anything in this state and she still needed to go the dwarven ruin with the stupid name and get the memories from the Lexicon. "I need to go to Whiterun."

"You can barely stand, much less walk or ride a horse."

"Call a meeting with the others."

"Casara."

"Do as I say!" She doubled over again, collapsing to her hands and knees.

"At least, let me find someone to go with you."

"Fine." She hissed as he helped her to her feet once more. She used her flame staff to support most of her weight. Linwe raced out of the room. She leaned against the wall, panting and hurting. Never in her life had Casara felt so much pain, so much agony at the hands of another. She was angry and in pain and knew she needed to find a way out of this. Nocturnal was not the strongest daedric lord, but maybe she could find one who was even stronger, one who Nocturnal feared... A small smile played on her lips as she thought of turning the tables on a goddess.

Linwe returned with a skittish redguard with short black hair and wore orange mage robes. "This is Marcurio, he's a mage and he'll escort you to Whiterun." He grabbed the smaller man by the neck. "If she dies, so will you."

Casara rolled her eyes. "Enough Linwe, get my stuff and take it out to the horse." He obeyed and She, followed by her new travelling companion gingerly walked out to the stables. She had to be helped onto the dappled stallion by both men and couldn't ride fast at all because of her wound. At that rate, it would take weeks to reach Whiterun hold. She just didn't have the patience to wait. Instead of riding horseback, she chose to pay for a wagon. Thankfully the jostling of the flimsy structure wouldn't disrupt her wound so much and soon she would be in a safe haven.

It took longer than she wanted, almost a week, to reach the plains of Whiterun, but even so, the journey was not yet over. She climbed down from the wagon, shoving away Marcurio's hands as he reached to help her. Fasendil was waiting for her by the stables. He handed some gold to the mage and pushed him away, taking Casara's arm and leading her down the road.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I pissed off a goddess. You have been in this province longer, who are the most powerful daedric lords?" She asked, attempting to keep her mind off of the pain that shot through her body with each step.

"Boethiah, Molag Bal, Azura, why?" Her answer was cut short by the axe that hit him square in the chest and tore him from her grasp. She growled as she hit the ground, the air forcing its way out of her lungs and making her cringe. Black spots dotted her vision as she unleashed bolts of electricity at the heavily armored bounty hunters. They backed away but continued to circle her, like wolves waiting for the injured moose to collapse so they could rip out its throat.

"A lot of people want you dead, Thalmor bitch!" One of them snarled.

"So they hired three idiots like you?" She asked, trying to rise to her feet. One of them ran at her and she barely brought her hands up to fire a fireball at his chest. He collapsed immediately and she began to back away, panting as her magicka was drained. Waves of fire and ice kept the remaining bounty hunters at bay, but her magicka would not last much longer. Nocturnal's warning rang in her ear. She couldn't let it drop too low. She needed to stay alive!

A sword, appearing out of the chest of one of the bounty hunters caught her attention. Fasendil twisted his blade sideways, cutting deeply into his enemy and effectively ending him. The final hunter attacked and he was forced to leave his weapon in his enemy's body and fight with his fists. He dodged the greatsword with surprising agility, even managing to deflect a blow with bracers. With a roar, he suddenly tackled the man to the ground and began pounding his face, not even bothering to remove the helmet. Soon, there was nothing but a pool of blood and mashed flesh where the man's face had once been. With a sigh, Fasendil stood up, removing his bloody bracers and tossing them to the side. With clean hands, he moved to help Casara to her feet.

"Thank you." She said genuinely.

He smiled and nodded. "But of course, my queen." He looked at the bodies. "Now to see who specifically wants you dead." He poked among them, searching their pockets until he found a note. "No name."

"Doesn't matter now. I need to get to the farm now."

"Of course." He moved to pick her up and she instinctively punched him in the face. She

expected him to be upset but he smiled. "Next time I'll give a warning." He suddenly grabbed her before she could react and picked her up, surprisingly gently. "You must remind me when Linwe and I next meet to punch him the stomach as hard as I possibly can. He should feel twice the amount of pain you do."

"Twas I who killed Mercer. He was the Nightingale."

"Doesn't matter." He started off at as fast a pace as he dared, in order to keep her wound from aggravating.

"Will you try to kill Nocturnal, if you succeed in gaining a more powerful lord's favor?"

"No. I don't care whether she lives or dies. I just want this damn pain to be alleviated so I can return to my plan."

Once they were near to the Loreius farm, Fasendil placed her on the ground and they walked up to the homestead.

Curwe, the wife came running out of the farmhouse and quickly bowed. "Everyone has gathered, my queen. Is there anything I can do to ease your suffering?"

"No, good Curwe. Come with us to the meeting so that you'll remain informed of the whereabouts of the others. We can't let the guards think there is any suspicious activity within your home. They must still believe that Vantus still lives."

"They do. Runil raises the body every day so that people will see it. Come, you must be tired." She lead the way into her home and down into the basement. There, she opened a hidden door and they descended even further into the ground until they came to an open room that resembled a large cavern. Every high elf in skyrim, loyal to Casara were waiting inside. They rose and bowed to her. She nodded to them and walked toward the front of the room.

Aicantar rushed to her side. "My queen." he said.

"How goes work on the dwemer machines?"

"Excellent, my queen. With the memories of the lexicon, we can decipher much of ancient dwemer history. Far more than that fool Calcemo. We already know twice as much as he did."

"Good." Casara said, leading him down even further, through a tunnel that eventually opened out into a room that was dominated by a large stone table. Linwe and Fasendil were already seated. Runil and Ancano were present, along with Faralda, Nelacar, Niranye, Nurelion, Viarmo, Taarie and her sister Endarie, and even Quaranir. She was surprised to find the Psijic Order member among them and voiced so.

"I had to come. You know you have my eternal loyalty, but upon hearing that you've pissed off the goddess of the Nightingales, I had to come and gloat."

"Of course you did." She sat down on her throne-chair and listened to the others give their reports. Ancano and Faralda had successfully taken over the College and Nelacar had completely usurped the Jarl, giving her full control of Winterhold. Fasendil reported that the Rift imperial camps were no more and Taarie informed them of increased Thalmor activity in Solitude. The reports continued but none required immediate attention so she explained to them her plan to heal herself.

"You mean to gain the favor of Boethiah?" Said Runil. "Bargaining with daedric lords is very dangerous."

"I agree." Said Linwe.

"It's your fault we are in this predicament. What good is a thief compared to a warrior? She should've sent your worthless ass down into that hellhole alone to die." Fasendil snapped.

"Enough." Curwe said. "The queen made her choice, now we need to help her. The plan cannot commence with her in such a state. If it will heal the queen, I say we a build a fucking shrine to Boethiah. Anything for the true queen of skyrim."

"Thank you Curwe." Said Casara. "If none have a better solution, I will make for the shrine of Boethiah at once."

"Who will accompany you?" Fasendil demanded.

"I have a suggestion." Voiced Quaranir. "There is an elf in skyrim whose skill and prowess could rival any daedric lord or God. I say we enlist his help and he will become the queen's escort. If not the escort, his assistance will be quite crucial if he chooses to side with any other faction than our own."

"I have not the time to persuade another to our cause, neither the mood to sweet talk a man. We have an entire army, choose a personal guard and be done with it."

"We must be discreet." Nelacar warned. "Encountering Thalmor soldiers on the

roads or in the wilds with a large force is risky to the cause."

"Then make it no more than 3 and be done. The rest of you are to return to your places and continue gathering information and preparing our forces for the first attack."


End file.
